Friends of Mine
by Lex Sterling
Summary: From Savannah, Georgia to New Orleans, Louisiana. Friendships will be formed, strained and tested. Will be NickxEllis. Note: This story has been put on hold indefinitely.
1. Dead Center The Hotel

___Wondering where I've been  
Been watching the sun go down  
Took care of everything_

God, his head hurt. And that blaring fucking alarm wasn't helping.

Groggily Nick reached across the bed and slapped at the clock. It tumbled off the nightstand and onto the floor. The conman groaned into the pillow before reaching blindly for it. Finding it, he yanked it hard to disconnect it from the wall and threw it across the room. It shattered on the far wall into three pieces.

The alarm was still screaming. Unabashed, loud and horribly blaring. Mixed in with all of it were a choir of voices—all yelling and irritating.

Nick lifted his head, blinking blearily. His terrible hangover made it nearly impossible for him to process things normally. He was pretty sure he was still drunk. Nick rolled onto his back. Yeah... definitely drunk still. He kicked away the blankets, not all together surprised to find himself fully dressed, shoes and all. He was, however, surprised to see that the lovely lady he had brought back to his hotel room was gone. Then he saw the puke. Then he wasn't surprised anymore.

Nick pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, stumbling towards the door. Fucking... god damn... noise. He jerked the door opened, fully ready to tell everyone outside to shut the fuck up. But it wasn't a rowdy group of college students stumbling through the halls like a bunch of drunk frat boys at seven in the morning. It was a horde of terrified, screaming and quite hysterical men, women and children.

Nick shook his head hard and ran his fingers through his messy hair. Before he could collect himself enough to ask what the fuck was happening, the horde of people were gone. There was only silence. Well, that blaring alarm silence. And the smell of smoke.

Nick started. Smoke? Jesus fucking Christ.

He started down the hall and used the wall to guide his still clumsy feet. As he drew closer to the intersection, he heard more voices.

"It's this way!"

"Are you sure, young'un? Everyone else was going the other way..."

"I'm totally sure, man! I've been to this hotel before for all kinds of stuff. This one time my buddy Keith and I—" The young man came to a startled stop as he stared down the hallway to Nick. Behind him, two others—a man and a woman—also came to a halt. Nick squinted back at them. "Hey man..." the young man in the hat started reluctantly. "You all right?"

Nick came to a stop before the trio. He glanced down one side of the hall and then the other. "What's... going on?" he asked. He reached out to steady himself on the wall. God his fucking head hurt. He rubbed his forehead, wincing. His head was pounding in his temple and right behind his right eye socket.

The other three shifted uncomfortably and stepped away, giving each other uneasy looks. "Have you been bit?" The hefty black man asked.

"What?" Nick rubbed his eyes. "No." His attention drifted but snapped back once finally processing. "Wait, _what_?"

The young black woman stepped forward, eyeing Nick up and down menacingly. She may have been pretty if she softened her lips. The woman then let out a noise of disgust. "You smell like a bar. He's just drunk. Idiot."

"Whoa, now." Nick wagged one finger at her while his other hand rubbed at his throbbing temple. He tried hard to find something clever to say, but fuck... the headache. "What... the fuck is going on?"

The young man shifted his hat nervously. "We're evacuating, man. Green Flu. You better come with us. I'm Ellis by the way. We're just headin' to the evac right now. Come on, guys." Quickly he gestured for the others and the three followed him.

Awkwardly, Nick introduced himself. The woman—Rochelle— simply scoffed at him and he took a mental note that she was a big black guy was Coach. He seemed reasonable enough. Nick liked him. As for the kid... Well, at least he was serving a purpose.

"Does is smell like smoke, or is it just me?" Nick muttered.

Coach sighed quietly. "Fire's been engulfing the city ever since they announced plans for evacuation," he said. "Rioting, panicking..." He shrugged. "All I know is I'm gettin' the hell out of here while I still can."

The group came to a slow stop as Ellis opened the fire door to the stairway. "Sorry guys..." he said. "Everywhere else is blocked. We gatta go up to the roof." Ellis leaned across the railing and looked up. "God damn..."

God damn indeed. There were thirty-two flights of stairs to be tackled. Nick would have liked to think he was in good shape, but by flight eight his head was pounding worse than it was before. By fifteen his legs were shaking. By twenty-four flights he could hardly breathe and by the last flight, he was ready to drop kick whoever had organized this evacuation site in the throat. Close behind him, Coach was panting and wheezing with sweat pooling down his chest.

They poured outside to an empty landing. They stared, breaths heaving collectively.

"Where... where is everybody?" Ellis asked quietly. He ran his arm across his sweaty forehead. His breaths were still leaving him in shaky gasps.

"They left us," Nick replied flatly. He reached out for the wall just outside the door and eased himself down. Left them. Not even a 'fuck you' or anything. They just... left them. Nick suddenly knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a con.

"They'll... They'll come back," Rochelle said quickly. She patted Ellis reassuringly on the shoulder and smiled then to Coach. "They'll come back for us." She seemed unconvinced.

"They're not coming back." Nick rested his head against the building. The sun was burning through his closed eyes. He grimaced. "If there's an outbreak... They've left us." He tried not to laugh, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't even get laid and he was left to die. What a fucking shitty week it's been.

"What are you laughing about?" Rochelle snapped. "This isn't... This isn't funny."

"No," Nick agreed, still laughing. "It's really not. But man, we are pretty fucked. About as fucked as I'm going to get, am I right? Am I right?" Ellis, at least, grinned.

Coach's frown was severe as he moved to Nick. "You're dehydrated, aren't you? Drinking, heavy exercising... Not a good match. You should drink some water." Coach glanced to the table of scattered crap left behind by CEDA. He picked up a water jug and snapped off the safety cap. "This may do it." He crouched down and shoved the entire thing into Nick's arms. "Drink it." Nick didn't see a reason to argue, so he complied. The water was lukewarm and unsatisfying. Coach sat back on his heels, sighing. "So, what do we do now?"

"Well... there's some stuff here we can use." Ellis tested the weight of a crowbar in his hand. "We could fight our way to the next evac."

"Yeah," Rochelle said, nodding excitedly. "Yeah, that's a good idea! I know there's another evacuation station in the mall."

"That ain't so far from here," Ellis said. "I know how to get there. We can do it. Together and stuff. Fight our way." He began rummaging through a black duffle bag left on one of the tables. "And... dayuuuum. We can really fight now." He held up two pistols. "I guess they came prepared an' shit. Got some ammo in here too." He continued to tear apart the bag excitedly.

Coach nodded to Nick. "Feelin' better?" Nick nodded, squinting up at the other man. The sun was so god damn bright. It cast dark shadows across Coach's face. His look of concern looked more menacing. "Are you sure you weren't bit...?"

"Yeah. Just." Nick shrugged. "Still feeling a lovely night." A couple of beers, some half dozen shots, a few white russians here and there... and well, it was enough to leave the night a blur. At least he couldn't quite remember why he had drank so much. That had been the point. He just didn't expect to wake up to the blaring siren of evacuation and an outbreak of the Green Flu. He had thought he was ahead of the Infection. Had been for the last two weeks.

"Listen, guys," Rochelle said. "I'm in the reporting business. I've seen the kind of stuff we're getting into."

"Yeah, you're that new chick with the," Nick gestured to his own face, grinning, "that look like you're always staring into the sun. Or biting a lemon."

"For one, fuck you." Rochelle flipped him the bird. "Secondly, the lighting guy is... was... new." She trailed off quietly, hands fidgeting. "...But, seriously. We should get moving. Like... now. Before it gets dark. I've heard they get more active in the dark." She sidled up beside Ellis and stared down at the assortment of weapons and aid he had collected. Two pistols with six extra clips, a crowbar and a fire axe. One first-aid kit. She touched the cross on the red pack. "I'm not sure if... if we'll even need this. If we get bit... It's over."

"Just in case," Ellis said, smiling. He held up one of the pistols. "Ever shot a gun 'fore?" The look she gave him indicated that, no, she hadn't.

* * *

He had been given the axe. He had complained, of course. But his complaints fell on deaf ears. He may be the only other one beside Ellis with experience, but no one was willing to hand a hungover man a loaded gun. They had given it to Miss Lemon over there. She held the weapon between two clenched hands, raised and always pointing at _him_.

"God damn it," Nick swore, throwing himself back. He raised his axe menacingly. "You point that fucking thing at me one more time and so fucking help me."

"The safety is on!" Rochelle snapped back.

Ellis laughed nervously. "No it ain't," he said. He pointed at it. "That red there means it's ready to fire." Ellis had spent a good fifteen minutes giving Rochelle the basics of gun safety. Apparently, it had fallen on deaf ears.

"I thought red meant..." Rochelle trailed off sheepishly.

"Y'all get your shit together," Coach said. He readied his crowbar. "'Cause here comes some more."

Two Infected came snarling towards them. Coach swung his crowbar directly into the first ones face. Its nose splattered and its eye socket shattered in a spray of blood. It clawed at the metal embedded in its face as it crumpled awkwardly to its knees. Coach jerked the crowbar free and met the Infected's skull with it again.

The second, Nick took. He licked his lips, axe raised and cocked back. When it moved close enough he swung hard. The head came clean off, the body took two more steps and then it toppled over. Blood pulsated weakly from the neck. Nick grinned down at his handiwork and Coach gave him a hard pat on the back.

Their first encounter had gone much differently. There had been a lot of screaming and cussing among them, pointing, dodging and "what if's" strangling their actions. Even though the woman had been missing her entire right arm, was foaming blood and spit from her mouth and sporting one mean ugly face, she had been... human. At least, had been. Surprisingly enough, it had been Ellis to take her down. One bullet between her eyes. It had been merciful. They had made a pact to never hesitate again.

Now they moved through the abandoned hotel with relative ease. The place was burning everywhere now. Smoke filled their lungs, the heat burned the tiny hairs on their skin and their eyes watered painfully. The Infected didn't seem to notice the fire. More than once they simply walked right through it, flaming human torches screeching and clawing their way after them until they fell over in a sizzle of blackened flesh. The smell was torturous.

The four came to a halt. "This is the only way?" Coach asked. He gestured to the elevator. Ellis nodded. "Ain't supposed to use these in a fire." He sighed, waving for the other three. They piled in nervously.

"I guess that doesn't apply during a zombie apocalypse," Nick said. He punched the lobby floor. "But if we get stuck in here... Ellis, I want you to shoot me." He looked to Rochelle. "I don't trust your shot. You'll probably miss, cupcake."

"I'd miss on purpose," she said flatly. She gestured as she spoke. "Shoot you right in the dick."

"Ouch," Nick half-grinned, half-winced mockingly. He could learn to love this cold hearted bitch.

Coach sighed loudly, rolling his eyes. "You kids play nice. Ain't no one shootin' no one."

"Unless one of us got bit." Nick looked between the three. They all gave each other uncomfortable stares. "None of you got bit, right? Isn't that how this works?"

"We'll worry about that later," Coach muttered. "Our floor's here."

The second those doors opened they were greeted by a blast of hot air that sucked the oxygen right out of Nick's lungs. He tried to inhale again after recovering from his initial shock, but the burning did not ease. He pulled his dress shirt over his mouth. It eased the pain a little, but not much.

"Now fucking what?" Nick yelled. The sound of the fire burning was like a roar. He vaguely recalled drunken bon-fires back in college. That sound a really big fire makes when it first ignites? That was what it sounded like—continuously. The heat was about ten times as intense. Every so often something pop and sizzled. Pipelines and other things seemed to be exploding by the minute.

"This way! Follow me!" Ellis gestured for them. He had the gun pointing their way with one hand, while the other held his shirt over his mouth. The smoke still stung. Their eyes, their lungs, their throat, their noses. It fucking hurt. They moved as fast as their feet would carry them. The Infected had seemed to die in the fire. Probably too stupid to navigate around it. Ellis led them faithfully through the burning lobby, under the sky-light ceiling, past the reservation desk and out the front doors.

The second their feet hit the streets outside and the cool fall breeze hit his sweaty skin, Nick collapsed to his knees. Immediately after, he gave into the unstoppable urge to puke his guts out.

* * *

A/N: **EDIT: I'm expanding/editing the first six chapters before I continue this. Some will get more expanding than others. Thanks for being patient.**

Song is "Friends of Mine" by Hugh Dillon, Nick's voice actor.

As always, thank you for reading and reviewing. I love y'all.


	2. Dead Center The Streets

___And now I'm back  
I finally got it sorted  
You've heard it a thousand times_

"I knew it! I knew you were bit!"

"Rochelle, calm down," Coach waved his hands non-threateningly in the air as he stepped around to stand between her and Nick. Rochelle had her gun drawn and she looked about a heartbeat away from using it. Intentionally or not, her finger was hovering dangerously over the trigger. Her shaking limbs weren't helping either. "He ain't bit. You and I both saw. He's just drunk."

"I don't believe it." She pointed with the gun urgently. "Check him."

"Well," Ellis said, shrugging. "At this rate, we all might as well get checked." He frowned, lifting up both arms and looking them up and down carefully, tried to look at his own back, lifted both legs as he looked at them and then shrugged. "I ain't got nothing."

"I'm not worried about you, honey," Rochelle grumbled.

"I..." Nick said finally. He looked to Rochelle, eyes even and glowering. "Firmly believe women shouldn't have guns. For these exact reasons." He rubbed his eyes with one hand, trying hard to quell the migraine and nausea pulsating just behind his eye sockets. "You're not the first woman to point a gun at me, sweetheart... And probably not the last either," he muttered.

"I think you should stop talking," Coach said flatly to Nick. "Rochelle, give me the gun." He held out one hand firmly. She hesitated for a moment longer, but one long and hard look from the big man was enough for her to resign the gun with a sigh. "It'll be okay, little sister. But maybe we all should take a minute to check ourselves for bites."

Nick half-heartedly looked down both arms before flopping onto his back. The sun was ridiculously bright and beating down on him as the Georgian sun tended to do. Heat was rising from the pavement all around him. And god... the sun had to be twice as bright than he remembered.

"Are you all right, man?" Ellis asked quietly. He sat himself beside Nick then glanced around nervously. He adjusted his hat, frowning. "I'm not so sure you should be goin' to sleep right now... We got to get to the mall."

"Yeah... the mall." Nick sighed. "I already hate this place."

"Aw, come on, man! Savannah's awesome! I can show you all the cool sites along the way!" Ellis leapt back to his feet and offered a hand to the conman. "Come on, man! It'll be real fun."

Nick eyed Ellis' outstretched hand. "Fun," he echoed hollowly. He took the offered hand and Ellis helped him to his feet. Nick's eyes dropped to the handgun in Ellis' waistband. He calculated for a moment. "Can I have a gun now?"

"No," Rochelle snapped.

"I didn't ask you," Nick snapped back.

"We'll just keep them where they are," Coach said firmly. The man hesitated a moment, staring hard at the bloodied crowbar he clenched in one hand. "You better take this," he finally said, holding it out to Rochelle. She blanched and recoiled in disgust. "I'm telling you now, girl. The shit you've seen? There's no time to play pretty. And we need to keep our heads. You need some time to cool off."

"There's a gunshop nearby on the way too," Ellis said brightly. "Maybe we can stop by there and see if we can grab some guns."

Coach checked his pistol for ammo before knocking the clip back into place. "That's a good idea, young'un. We can use all the help we can get." Gravely he looked west where the sun was just beginning to descend.

Also on the horizon a mass of lumbering Infected groaned and moaned, hands clawing and grasping at their disfigured faces. They stumbled into each other, but some where beginning to trickle towards the four Survivors.

CEDA's presence was nothing more than a graveyard of broken tents.

* * *

After following Ellis over countless streets (as he rambled non-stop) and abandoned cars, they were down to two spare clips between both pistols. A majority of the staggering Infected were decapitated by Nick, but a handful of times Rochelle surprised everyone by stepping up and knocking the teeth out of a few. She seemed to throw all of her frustration behind each swing. Despite being so small, her force was enough to leave gaping bloody holes where faces use to be. Nick made a mental note to try and be nicer.

He also noted that his white suit was beginning to turn red. His hands were covered in dried blood and brains. He felt a tick in his mind—this burning desire to suddenly immerse himself into bleach. Swim in antiseptics... Or just wash his fucking hands.

"Anyone have any hand-sanitizer?" the conman whined loudly. He wiped some brains onto his pants, shuddering.

"I have some in my purse," Rochelle said brightly. "Let me just get that for you—_Oh wait_." She gave Nick a deadpan stare. Nick began laughing.

"Shh... Do y'all hear that?" Coach asked quietly.

"Hear what?" Ellis whispered back.

"That... noise. Tell me y'all hear it." Coach gripped the pistol in both hands, eyes wide as he glanced around. "I swear... I hear somethin'."

They came to a collective stop. Nick craned his head one way and then the other. He didn't hear shit. Coach must be losing it. He couldn't really blame him. This was a lot of shit to swallow. Not to mention—Nick startled and he felt his heartbeat jump into his throat. "I hear it," he whispered breathlessly.

It was faint. But it was noticeable. A soft growling. A dog, maybe? But Nick couldn't ever recall hearing a dog that sounded like that. Maybe it was an Infected dog. The news never really specified if humans were the only reservoir for this disease.

"Everyone pay attention," Nick cautioned.

The words barely left his mouth before the growl suddenly became a screech. From the building above a shadow sailed over them. The figure landed directly onto Ellis. He got off only one shot before he crashed against the pavement in a tangle of limbs. Screaming and kicking Ellis did what he could to keep the thing from tearing into him. He had the Infected around the throat, holding its rasping mouth away from himself. It was screeching and foaming, lips dripping saliva and black blood, eyes wild. The thing gripped and tore into his arms. He could feel only the searing pain.

Nick moved quickly once his body caught up to what he was seeing. He grabbed the Infected by its hoodie and pulled it off Ellis. It came tumbling back, trying to swipe one clawed hand after the conman but Nick brought his axe down on the outstretched hand. He severed the hand at the wrist. The Infected howled in pain, stumbling as it pawed pathetically at the pulsating wound. Coach fired off three shots into its chest. It collapsed to the ground in a heap. For good measure, Nick embedded the axe into its face.

"Ellis, Ellis, sweetie are you okay?" Rochelle moved to help the young man to his feet, but stopped herself. Ellis was sitting, holding his bloody arms to his chest. He had a dazed look on his face.

"I... I think it... I think it bit me." He uncurled his arms from his chest. There were claw marks on both arms. The blood was already drying and cracking in the heat. Ellis' mouth moved wordlessly.

Nick glanced to the axe in his hands then to Ellis. For a moment he imagined putting the kid out of his misery. Just one clean swipe...The image left a bad taste in his mouth.

"How long does it take?" Coach asked quietly.

"To turn?" Rochelle sighed and shook her head. Ellis' gaze dropped to his arms. Wide-eyed and frightened he couldn't find the words to beg for his life. "Some say a few minutes, others say hours..."

"What if he doesn't?" Nick asked suddenly. The three looked to him. "I remember hearing something about Immunity."

"Or Carriers," Rochelle said flatly.

"So you'd rather just kill the kid now," Nick gestured lightly to Ellis. "Just. Bam? One shot in the head? Why don't you do the honor's, Rochelle. You seem like you have it all figured out."

She frowned hard and looked to Ellis. "No. We're not going to shoot him."

"I... I feel fine." Ellis got to his feet, holding his hand to the deepest cut. "If I start feeling... feeling it. You can... Shoot me. I wouldn't... wouldn't wanna hurt y'all..." He looked desperately to the other three. "I feel fine... really..."

Coach patted Ellis gently on the shoulder. "Let's patch you up," he said softly.

* * *

"Hey, Nick," Ellis said quietly. He jogged up beside the conman. Ellis now held the axe, Nick the pistol. The conman glanced to the other. "Thanks... for ya know... Stickin' up for me. I mean, I feel fine an' everythin'. Actually, I think I'm Immune." He lifted his cap and scratched at his head. "I don't really get it... But I think I'm gonna be okay. So, thanks for not shootin' me or nothin'."

Nick shrugged. "Just don't shoot me in the face," he looked to Ellis' axe, "or cut my head off immediately when I get bit."

Ellis laughed nervously. "When?"

Nick didn't reply. The two fell into an uncomfortable silence.

"Well..." Ellis continued. "The gunstore is just ahead."

The gunstore was the most glorious thing Nick had ever seen. Every type of gun a hill-billy could dream of was here. Nick stood back, hands on hips as he glanced from one side of the wall of guns to the other. So many god damn choices. He was smiling so hard it actually hurt. They just may have a fucking chance.

"You know, legally I'm not allowed to own a gun," Nick said as he lifted an autoshotgun from the wall. He grinned, admiring the perfectly polished surface. God it was beautiful. "I hope everyone's okay with that."

"Why can'tcha own a gun?" Ellis asked. Nick only smirked in response and busied himself with loading the shotgun. Ellis decided he'd ask him later again and pulled a sniper rifle from the wall. "I've always wanted one of these. Ever since I was just a little nugget..." He lifted it to his eye, checking the scope. "Aw man, this is gonna be awesome."

The four piled on as much ammo and first aid as they could possibly carry. Rochelle and Coach both settled for AK-47's and side-arms. Nick picked up the blood-soaked axe. He weighed it in his hand experimentally.

"You'd rather have that?" Ellis asked.

"I've grown attached to it," Nick said, shrugging. "And," he smacked Ellis hard in the chest. "Don't need to reload it. Less shit to carry." He grinned as he walked away.

Ellis glanced down to himself and flushed. He probably looked ridiculous with all the ammo strapped to himself. In the long run though... he knew it was worth it. He glanced to Nick who was still smirking as he rummaged through the drawers behind the register.

"Where you from, Nick?" Ellis asked finally.

Nick looked up to the other. "Why?"

"I'm just curious. You ain't from around here, that's for sure."

"No, I _ain't._" He slipped a flashlight from behind the counter into his backpack. "How about... You focus on finding supplies? And if we make it out of here, I'll tell you where I'm from."

"Okay." Ellis paused for a moment. "What do you do?"

"What?"

"Like, I was a mechanic before all this. What'd you do?"

Nick stared, mouth opened slightly, eyebrow quirked. "Do you ever shut up?"

Ellis flushed. "I was just curious. I mean, I was a mechanic. Rochelle was a reporter and Coach taught at a school. We don't know nothin' 'bout you."

"Except that he's a drunk," Rochelle offered from across the other side of the room.

Nick shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line. "Let's just get this fucking over with." He moved to the back door and kicked it opened.

He was surprised to find himself face to face with an Infected. She was hardly clothed and her gnarled hands covered her face. She was sobbing.

* * *

**A/N: **This chapter feels really sloppy and painful to read/write, but I wanted to get an update so I don't just... stop writing. I have a bit of a hangover, so I apologize for the quality and the shortness.

Not quite the "saferoom" for The Streets, but... I'll catch up

And as always, thanks for reading and reviewing. I really appreciate it.


	3. Dead Center The Mall

___And you can check that story  
You know they're no friends of mine  
Never thought I'd take the time_

The look the Infected gave him caused him to freeze. Her eyes rolled back, lips curling back to reveal teeth stained with blood. Her voice rose in a low guttural whine that made Nick's skin rise with goosebumps. It was unlike anything he had ever heard. Her stuttering gait twisted towards him, frail body quaking with each step. Then she was coming at him with nothing more than a horrific screech.

He stumbled backwards, trying to deflect her hands with his axe, but she simply knocked his arm out wide with one effortless slap. Her other hand caught him just in the chest. Nails dragged down his bare skin and blood was spilt. He let out a startled yelp and he fell against the wall with no where to go. Head swimming he watched her close in again.

Then she went down in a shudder of wails and screams as bullets tore into her.

The conman slid down the wall, hand pressed hard against his wound. He lifted his hand up—it was smeared with blood as he should have expected, but even so he was still surprised. He pressed his hand back to his chest, shaking his head hard in denial. His mind raced.

No, no, no no... That didn't... She didn't just. He couldn't... Again he lifted his bloodied hand from his wound and just stared. Jesus fucking Christ... He was...

"Nick?" Ellis asked tentatively. He lowered his gun as he crept closer. "Nick are you all right?"

"Do I look all fucking right?" He tried to sound angry, but his voice choked and betrayed him. His breath shook in his chest. His stomach had dropped a million miles and he felt sick. Some people may find their lives flashing before their eyes. See the faces of friends and family, loved ones... An old house or a favorite pet. Somewhere they loved to just lay down and relax. Nick could see nothing but the prospect that he would soon be gnawing on some douchebags brains and left to spend the rest of his life as one of those walking corpses. "Oh fuck..." He ran his hands feverishly through his hair, quiet curses leaving his lips endlessly.

"Do ya feel all right?" Ellis asked. He moved cautiously to the conman. "Like... Do ya feel different? I didn't feel different. I still don't." Nick didn't answer him and so Ellis scooted a little closer before dropping down to one knee. "Nick? Maybe you're Immune. Let me just patch you up and we'll jus-"

Rochelle reached down to grip Ellis' shoulder. "Just wait. Give it a few more minutes." She held her gun ready in the other hand. Her scowl was intense.

Beside her, Coach shook his head slowly. "I don't know, Nick. You feel fine?" the big man asked.

Nick swallowed hard before he nodded once.

Coach looked slowly from Nick to Rochelle. "Satisfied?"

"What are the chances of _two_ of us being Immune?" she asked. She shook her head, throwing her hands into the air. Ellis and Coach both shrugged nonchalantly. "Fine, whatever. Throw a band-aid on him. But when he goes for you two, don't say I didn't tell you so."

"I'd go for you first, you bitch," Nick grumbled. Ellis, the only one to hear, grinned hard as he pulled out bandages from his first aid.

"I'm gonna clean the wound a little. All right?" Ellis went to work. Health 101 in high school had taught him enough of the basics. But with a friend like Keith, he could probably be a certified EMT if he wanted. He started first with saline, then with antiseptics. He dressed the wound with six butterfly bandages. Nick took all the poking and prodding stoically. "Does it hurt?" the young man asked quietly. He frowned sympathetically but Nick refused to look at him.

"No."

"Do ya feel all right?"

"Do _you_ feel all right?" Nick asked flatly. "You've been Infected longer than I have."

"I feel fine." Ellis shrugged. "A little hungry, but fine."

Nick noticed Rochelle's sudden (and overly dramatic) glance to Coach who simply nodded slightly in agreement. It had been some time since any of them ate. It was reasonable enough. Nick, however, felt the asshole in him clawing its way out. "For..." Nick did well not to grin. "Brains?"

Ellis blinked once then he burst into the most disarmingly charming laugh Nick had ever heard. The conman flushed slightly as Ellis continued to laugh heartily. He was practically rolling on the ground beside him. Nick gaped.

"No, man," Ellis gasped between his laughs. He brushed tears from his eyes. "Just normal hungry. I ain't got no cravin' for brains."

"Mmmm," Nick smiled mockingly to Rochelle. "Brains sounds really good right now. Chewy. I like chewy." He clicked his teeth together. Rochelle let out a noise of disgust.

"Are you done?" she asked. "I'd like to get to the mall before it gets dark. Or before you Turn." She snapped a new clip into her AK and smiled pointedly.

"Mall's jus' around the corner!" Ellis said cheerfully. "We'll be there in no time."

* * *

Literally. Around the corner the gigantic "Liberty Mall" sign shone like some ungodly tacky beacon. CEDA had set up camp in the parking lot. But no one but the dead walked here. They snuck through the abandoned camp by sticking behind tents and parked cars. The dozens of Infected standing stupidly around didn't notice them. They figured it was best to save bullets and left them.

When they entered the mall, they began to see the signs.

"Evac, this way?" Coach said quietly. "CEDA better be in this god damn mall." He tore the sign from the door. "We're right here." He pointed at the map. "The evacuation site is..." He trailed the map with one finger, frowning deeply. "Way over here? What, do they want us all to die just getting there?"

Nick snorted with laughter. "Probably. Never intended to save us all." He looked lazily to the other three who stared back worriedly. "They'll probably start shooting people when they can't take on any more."

"That's not funny," Rochelle said.

"I wasn't going for funny. I was going for logical," Nick said. Before he could continue, Ellis let out a sudden shriek. Nick started back to attention, shotgun clutched in both hands, ready to fire. Ellis, however, was gripping his hat with both hands and jumping up and down.

"Oh my God! Jimmy Gibbs, Jr's car is here?" He bounced around excitedly. "Aw, man! We gatta see that thing! Man, can we stop for just a minute? Just a little bit. I gatta see that beautiful girl."

"You're an idiot," Nick said flatly. If Ellis heard him, he didn't seem to care. He was still grinning that ridiculous grin. And god damn it, Coach was starting to as well. Nick was unable to keep the confusion off his face. One glance to Rochelle indicated that, for once, they were on the same page.

"So... We're here." Nick said blankly. He pointed at the gigantic map just a floor up from where they had come in. The place had turned out to be more or less a maze. Half the exits were blocked and the most sure way to get where they needed was becoming more and more obscure. Nick tilted his head one way and then the next. "We go... downstairs?" He craned his neck to stare down into the dark floor below. "God, I hate malls."

"Mall's are awesome, man!" Ellis interjected. He smacked Nick hard on the back and the conman gave him a sour look. "You just ain't never gone with the right kind of people. Man, one time my buddy Keith and I went to a mall down in Atlanta... Hol-ee shit, man. You wouldn't believe the kind of shit they got going down there. This one time-"

"Shut up." Nick stared evenly into those startled blue eyes. Ellis stopped talking immediately and he fidgeted with his gun awkwardly. "Do you hear that?" Nick continued.

"What?" Ellis perked up. "Hear what?" Then he looked worried. Last time they had "heard" something... Well... The young man glanced to his bandaged arms and then around the mall fearfully. "Coach?"

"...Yeah." Coach nodded. "I hear it. Sounds big."

"I think... I think I see something." Rochelle leaned slightly over the railing, staring hard into the darkness. "What... is that?" She reached for her pistol, clicked on the flashlight and then pointed it into the darkness. Before anyone could caution that may not be a good idea—the light shone directly into the face of the biggest fucking Infected Nick was sure he was ever going to see. It's massive head snapped around and then it let out a thunderous roar.

"What the fuck!" Nick yelled. "What the fuck is that? What the fuck!" The four quickly back-peddled away from the escalator where the massive creature now pounded up, gigantic arms swinging wildly. "Shoot it! Fucking shoot it!"

The thing made it about eight steps past the escalator before it succumbed to over two hundred bullet wounds and crashed to the ground. Nick was quick to unload three shotgun shells into its face.

"That thing is like a god damn tank," Coach said breathlessly. He nudged it gently with his foot. The Infected's head lolled, brains spilling across the floor. "Too many god damn steroids."

"What the fuck is going on with this Infection?" Nick asked. "This is... This is fucked up. I've never seen anything like this. First that jumping thing, then that crying girl. Now _this_. What the fuck?"

"It makes it more fun!" Ellis suggested, shrugging lightly.

"Fun?" Nick wheeled around on the other, shoving him hard in the chest. "I don't think it's much fucking fun having to shoot a bunch of fucking people in the faces because they're trying to eat me. Maybe if I was a fucking moron like you, I could see all the god damn fun in this."

Ellis' lip trembled slightly and he lowered his head, ashamed. "Sorry," he muttered miserably.

"No, sweetie. You have nothing to be sorry for." Rochelle put an arm lovingly around the young man. She glared daggers at Nick. "I think Nick needs to apologize."

"I'm not fucking apologizing." The conman scowled as he reloaded his shotgun. "Sorry if I'm a little too fucking real for Overalls over there."

"Ya'll," Coach said. He looked sternly between the three. "We can't be turning on each other right now. We need each other to get to the evac station."

"Yeah, what Evac, Coach?" Nick snarled. "They fucking left us. All right? They're fucking gone. We're gonna die here." He laughed shortly, throwing his hands into the air. "I haven't seen one god damn living person since we got here. No one is waiting for us here, all right? Fucking no one." The silence was almost tangible. Nick let out a frustrated sigh and ran his fingers through his hair obsessively. He refused to look the other three in the eye.

"Let's get movin'," Coach said quietly. They gathered their courage and made their way downstairs.

An hour later, Nick's premonition rang true. The evacuation site was empty. There was no army waiting. No smiling and concerned faces to whisk them away.

There was no one there to save them.

* * *

Nick sat down heavily on one of the registration tables. Papers were strewn everywhere. Some of the dead lay about, bloodying the floor in pools of red. The conman dropped his face into one hand, rubbing his forehead and trying very hard to keep his tongue in check. Why the fuck had he listened to these morons? What the fuck was he doing here? He was probably Infected... going to die any time soon—or fucking Turn. All for this? For _this_? He gazed out into the ghostly room of overturned chairs, tables and fences. He was going to die. For this.

"Nick...?" Ellis asked quietly. He shuffled close before leaning against the table along side Nick. Nick shook his head and looked away with a sigh. "It'll be okay."

"I don't need a pep talk, kid."

Ellis shrugged slightly and began to absent-mindedly run one finger across the length of his sniper-rifle scope. "We can get out of this. Maybe fight our way to the Evac's on the coast." He shifted his foot away from a piece of paper before picking it up off the ground. He held it over for Nick to see. "Map says New Orleans still stands." He shook it, trying to get the other to look at it, but Nick refused. Dejectedly, Ellis brought the map back to his lap and stared hard at it. "We can make it there. All of us."

Nick sighed. "What, fight our way there?"

"We ain't got much a choice." Ellis smiled quietly to Coach and Rochelle as they approached. He held the map out to them and Coach took it wordlessly. He and Rochelle stared hard at it. Ellis shrugged. "I ain't gonna just lay down and die. I'mma go there." He nodded towards the map. "Y'all should come with me."

Rochelle frowned and glanced to Coach who met her gaze for a moment before nodding slowly. "I think the boy is onto something."

"Our best chance, right?" Rochelle asked. "We have to give it a shot. Clearly no one is going to save us."

"We should just shoot ourselves now," Nick muttered. "Save us the trouble."

"Don't talk like that, man," Ellis said. He put an arm around Nick and the conman gave him a cold stare. Ellis didn't even falter with his one armed hug. He just grinned back. "We're gonna do this."

Again, Nick sighed hard. His gaze lifted towards the Heavens.

For probably the millionth time in his life, he wondered if there even was such a thing as God. His gaze dropped to the disfigured corpse of an executed Infected.

For the millionth time he came to the same conclusion: no.

* * *

**A/N: **This story is a much lighter story than I'm use to writing. So if it feels forced/strained that's why. I'm trying to get into the groove with it. It'll probably turn darker just because it's my style of writing, but not unbearably dark. I'm kinda digging the humor and lightness. And Nick's a pessimist. And I love that about him.

Thank you for reading and reviewing. I appreciate it, so much. Hearts.


	4. Dead Center Atrium

___Thought I'd said goodbye  
Thought I'd left it all behind  
The pages of my life_

"Cheer up, man." Ellis patted Nick on the shoulder. Again, the conman gave the young man a smoldering stare. Ellis only smiled in response. "So, guys. I've been thinkin'."

"Impossible," Nick muttered under his breath. He dropped his pace to fall out of step with Ellis. He trailed the other three, glancing around the deserted mall. He began to weigh his chances of escaping this place on his own. These idiots weren't providing him with any sense of security. Especially the stupid hick. Always grinning like that. Idiot.

The conman fished into his pocket and pulled out his only pack of cigarettes. He resisted a moment—he hadn't a fucking clue when he'd get more—before pulling one out between his teeth and lighting it. The burning was enough to calm his bubbling irritation.

"So, I've been thinkin'. Jimmy Gibb's car is here, right?" Ellis' grin was unimaginably big. Nick rolled his eyes and sighed out a cloud of smoke. "I've been thinkin'... if we can gas that car up, we can have the sweetest ride outta here."

"Those cars only have one seat," Nick retorted flatly. He flicked ash from his smoke before sucking down a long draw. "That's a stupid idea. It's better that we just hotwire a car in the parking lot."

"And I suppose you know how to do that," Rochelle asked sourly.

"I might."

"But..." Ellis struggled to find reason. "Jimmy Gibb's... His car. It's so damn fast. We could just haul ass to New Orleans. Nothin' could-"

Nick cut him short, "With shit mileage we'd make it thirty miles before we needed to fill up again. I don't know if you know this, Overalls, but New Orleans is more than thirty miles away."

"Sorry, Ellis," Coach said. He patted the young man's shoulder sympathetically. "I'm going to have to agree with Nick. It was a good idea... But we just can't do it. It don't make much sense in the long run."

Ellis sighed, kicking his feet like a little kid. "Okay," he finally said, resigned.

"So, Nick." Coach looked to the other man. "You _do_ know how to hotwire a car, right?"

Nick shrugged slightly, blowing a cloud of smoke towards him. Coach waved his hand through the air, glaring. "What do you think?"

* * *

The entrance parking lot was packed. Not with just cars, but with Infected. They were massing together on the east side—it looked like something had drawn them over there at one point. They were just standing there, staring up into the sky, drool running down their decayed mouths. They took advantage of the moment.

The four Survivors crept along the cars, being sure to stay as low as possible.

"Check them for full tanks," Nick whispered. He lifted up long enough to shield the sun from the window as he stared into the car. "Quarter tank." He shook his head at the other three and they continued to crawl along the lines of cars and checking them as they went.

It took nearly twenty minutes for them to finally come to a car that had enough gas in it for them to bother. It was a gray Toyota Prius. Even better—the window was a quarter the way rolled down. That was what had initially caught Coach's attention. The man waved the other three over.

"This one's almost full," he said, patting the side of the car.

"Let me," Rochelle said. She shoved her arm through the tiny crack and unlocked the door. Nick brushed her aside before climbing into the drivers seat. "You're welcome," she grumbled.

"Yeah, yeah, thanks for taking two seconds to shove your dainty arm in here to unlock the door so we can all get the fuck out of here." He took the pocket knife Ellis offered and shoved it into the ignition and then unlocked the doors. "Everyone get in." They piled inside—Rochelle and Ellis in the backseat and Coach in the front.

"What are you doin'?" Ellis asked, leaning forward to try and crane his neck to see exactly how it was one hot-wired a car. Nick turned around long enough to give him a cold stare. It was enough to prompt Ellis to sit back in his seat and sit quietly.

"Shit..." Coach ducked down in the car and pointed. There were six or seven Infected stumbling their way towards them, head twisting back and forth as though they were trying hard to pinpoint all the fuss. "They must have heard the car doors. They're coming. Hurry up, boy."

"Nick, how's it coming? All your years of jacking cars paying off?" Rochelle smacked at the back of the drivers seat urgently. "Seriously, hurry up." The closest Infected was standing at the front of the car now, bumping into it over and over. Finally it collapsed onto the hood and began to pull itself upwards towards the windshield.

Nick glanced up at it. Then he pressed two little wires together and the car roared to life. "Seat-belts, kids." He knocked the car into reverse, glanced over his shoulder and peeled out, taking out a lumbering Infected and sending it tumbling away. When he slammed on the breaks the Infected on the hood slid wildly. It had managed to worm its fingers around the windshield wipers and the damn things were looking ready to snap off.

"Jesus Christ, Nick!" Rochelle screamed, covering her head with both hands. "You're insane!"

"I said seat-belts," Nick replied matter-of-factly. He shifted the car into drive. To the east, Infected were now rushing towards the moving car. Nick did the only reasonable thing he could possibly do in such a situation. He slammed his foot on the gas. The tires screeched and left a streak of black on the pavement behind them. Nick took a sharp left out of the parking lot—sending the Infected on the hood flying. Laughing, he raced his way towards I-16. The other three gave him wide-eyed stares, but he couldn't have cared less. They were finally fucking going somewhere.

* * *

"You look way too happy," Rochelle said glumly. Her arms were crossed and she was glaring at Nick's reflection in the rear-view mirror.

"I'm jus' as happy as Nick is," Ellis said. He leaned his head around the passengers seat. Coach gave him an uncomfortable stare—the kid was practically resting his chin on his shoulder. "How long is it until we get to Louisiana?"

Nick snorted. "A long time. So you better keep your mouth shut."

"Be nice to the kid," Coach rumbled.

"Yeah, yeah," Nick shrugged slightly. He glanced at the other man. "You won't be saying that two hours from now when he still hasn't taken a damn breath."

"Turn on the radio," Rochelle offered quietly. "Maybe there's some news."

There was silence for a moment before Coach leaned forward and clicked the radio on. Every station he went through was nothing but static. After a good five minutes the man gave up. He sighed and shook his head slowly. "Sorry, Ro. Looks like no one's there."

"CD's?" Nick clicked at the controls. "Guy's gatta have something good in there." The first few seconds of the song made Nick blanch. "Oh, great. Country."

_"Standing at the back door she tried to make it fast, one tear hit the hard wood it fell like broken glass-"_

Nick gnashed his teeth, shaking his head. "What the fuck was I thinking?" He reached to turn it off but Coach smacked his hand. "Hey, I'm fucking driving here."

The big man nodded towards the back and Nick glanced up in the rear-view mirror. To his annoyance (and surprise) Rochelle and Ellis were both grinning hard at each other. Within another ten seconds they were singing along—Ellis comically trying to hit notes no man should. Nick had never been so disturbed in his entire life.

"Let the kids have a moment," Coach said quietly.

"Whatever..." Nick sighed. "Then I get to smoke." He reached in his pocket, pulled out a cigarette and masterfully lit it without even having to slow down once. Years of smoking and driving at its best.

"Second hand smoke kills," Coach grumbled.

"So does country music," Nick grumbled back.

* * *

**A/N: **So, so very sorry for the short chapter, but I couldn't find any other way to make it continue without a ridiculous amount of dialogue and weird driving descriptions. The next chapter will be much longer.

As much as I LOVE Ellis' love for driving Jimmy Gibb's, Jr.'s car... It's pretty illogical. I'm sorry, El. I tried to rationalize taking it, but I couldn't. The CD in the car is "Some Hearts" by Carrie Underwood. I don't listen to her... :l

I will be skipping The Passing for a couple of reasons. 1) not everyone has that map 2) It introduces more characters that I don't want to deal with 3) the level is so ungodly short anyways 4) I'm already writing all the other main maps :l

As always, thank you so very much for reading and reviewing.


	5. Dark Carnival The Highway

_And maybe it's not that pretty  
It's just a place in time  
Those days are gone forever_

Too much singing, zombie murdering and running around had taken its toll on Rochelle and Ellis. After an hour of singing along to the CD, Nick had finally had enough and turned it off. Soon after Rochelle and Ellis had surrendered to some sleep. They were leaning against each other, heads resting together, so quiet it was like they weren't even there anymore. Nick couldn't help but glance up at them in the mirror every so often and stare. When they were sleeping, they weren't so bad. But awake...

"You got any family?" Coach asked suddenly.

"No," Nick replied automatically.

"No brothers, no sisters? No kids?" Coach shook his head slowly and his gaze turned to the window. Everything flashed by in an instant. He stared somberly out it.

Nick scratched at his forehead, frowning. "Not really, no."

There was a long silence. Coach's voice was strained when he finally spoke. "I got three boys." He let out a shaking sigh. "I don't know where they are." He stared down at his twisting hands, fighting tears. "They all moved outta Savannah by a few years ago. Jacob went to New York, Trent to North Carolina... And little RJ to big LA." He chuckled quietly, fondly. "All that kid wanted to do was be an actor." He went quiet for a moment. "The wife died six years ago. I hate to say it, but I'm happy she did. I couldn't let her see all this. It'd break her heart."

"Sorry, Coach," Nick said quietly. And he was. If there was one person in this car that he may learn to like, it was probably that big man mopping tears from his eyes next to him. Nick glanced into the rear-view mirror again. Not that he wouldn't feel... badly... if those two dumb-asses got killed. They were starting to grow on him. Maybe it had something to do with fighting for your life together that made you just care. Whatever it was...

"I just hope they got their mothers common sense and got to those damn evac stations right away. You see, me?" Coach laughed hollowly."I kept thinkin' that if I stuck around it'd all just blow right over me. Savannah's my home. Only home I've ever known. Grew up there. Met my wife there. Raised my kids there. My entire life is in Savannah. I really thought everything was gonna just..." He shrugged. "Be fine." Coach looked to Nick. "What were you doing in Savannah?"

For once, Nick found himself at a loss of words. Typically he as quick to snap out a half-truth or a full-out lie that was enough to satisfy the curiosity of anyone. But right now... His mind was shaken. All he could think of was the home he had left sixteen years ago. Of faces he hadn't seen or dreamt of in years. People he hadn't even thought twice of until now. He couldn't see them as people anymore. Just Infected. Drooling, decaying, awful Infected. Festering with pus, missing limbs, bloodied maws rasping and gasping...

"Nick?" Coach asked quietly. "You all right?"

"What?" Nick shook himself, blinking. "Yeah. I'm fine. What was the question?"

"What were ya doin' in Savannah?"

"Gambling."

"Gamblin'?" Coach laughed. "You do look like the gamblin' type. What the hell made you want to come here in the middle of the Infection?"

"I suppose I thought I could outrun it." Like a lot of other things. "Guess not."

"Nope. Ain't no one outrunnin' this one. Let's just hope God's watchin' over us."

Out of respect, Nick kept his mouth shut.

* * *

An hour later, Nick was forced to slow down for the first time. Congestion on the highway was getting out of control. He weaved slowly between as many cars as he possibly could. After twenty minutes of slow progress, he put the car in park. The four stared silently. As far as they eye could see, cars were abandoned.

Nick felt his heart plummeting. Any hope he had began to scrape off the ground was gone now. He just stared out the window, both hands still clutching the steering wheel. No matter where those green eyes shifted, he saw nothing but despair. Nothing but a dead end. Nothing but an uncertain future.

"We'll jus' walk," Ellis offered. "It'll be okay."

"They go on for miles," Nick muttered quietly.

"Maybe they left them when they got rescued?" Coach asked. Nick looked at the other man and the two stared for a moment. Nick nodded once—not really in agreement—but he couldn't find the will to argue. "Let's go, kids."

The four climbed out of the car and immediately checked their guns and equipment. The sun was falling in the sky—sending the horizon into a blush of red and gold. It illuminated the cars, casting shadows that stretched like monsters.

Coach pointed to a billboard to the right. "Whisperin' Oaks. I use to go there as a kid."

"Great," Nick replied flatly. "Now we can all die there as adults." Coach looked at him, glaring. Nick began his way down the road, shotgun in hand. Behind him the other three followed.

Within a few minutes they began to realize Coach's theory was probably the wrong theory. For every car abandoned, it appeared that at least two Infected had been left in its wake. It was hard to climb and squeeze around cars quietly and unnoticed. The Infected punished their every mistake. They just kept coming and coming. No amount of bullets seemed to stop them. Their progress was slow, but it was progress at least.

And then— "What the hell is that!" Rochelle cried. The other three turned just in time to see a bloated Infected stumbling towards them. It reached out with both hands, fat legs projecting it forward like a cannon. Rochelle fired off a burst into its stomach.

Like a bomb, it simply blew up. Blood, guts and bile sprayed over Rochelle. Her body managed to shield the majority of the carnage from hitting the others. She was left, covered from head to foot, in dripping guts. Immediately she doubled over and began vomiting.

"Oh, shit." Nick grabbed at her arm and pulled her to her feet. She was trying to run, wiping guts from her face, stumbling and puking as she was pulled away. "Grab her gun!" Nick yelled. Ellis scooped it from the ground and provided as much cover fire as he could.

It was like all the Infected in the world were smelling that putrid nastiness. They came stumbling over cars, screaming in rage, knocking each other over just to get to Rochelle. Nick hoisted her into the back of an opened semi-truck. She crawled to the back, spitting and coughing still, trying hard to wipe everything from her face and hair.

The Infected seemed too preoccupied to get to Rochelle at first to even notice the other three. They just came at them like easy targets. Heads exploding, blood spraying through the air. Eventually, however, they turned their sights on the more easily accessible prey. Coach was the first one they fell on.

It was like in an instant four Infected turned as one to throw themselves onto the big man. Coach tried to elbow them away but their biting and scratching was enough to knock his gun loose. He went down on one knee, using his forearm to hold back a gnawing Infected.

Ellis moved forward, shoving his pistol around into the Infected's gut and pulling the trigger. It let out a yelp that disengaged its teeth from Coach's arm. Ellis kicked it away before firing another shot into its face. Together he and Coach pushed and knocked back the remaining three. Ellis executed the rest of them. Coach fought to regain his footing. He was clutching his arm into his chest, shaking his head.

The Infected were trickling away to a few at a time. Nick picked them off as Ellis helped Coach to the back of the semi.

"Coach," Ellis asked. The young man shifted nervously where he stood. Coach had a hunk of flesh missing on his left forearm. The big man went form holding the wound to simply staring at it, over and over, like he didn't quite understand. "Coach... you feel all right?"

Coach said nothing for the longest time. Finally he nodded. "I feel... all right. It hurts. But. I'm all right."

"Let's clean it up," Nick said. He took out another Infected that wandered too close.

Again, Ellis pulled out his first aid and began to clean the wound.

* * *

It was the worst pain Coach had ever been in. Even with five ibuprofen and some numbing swabs he could still feel his arm pulsating with agony. He figured though, if he could still feel pain that he was still himself. It wasn't a lot of comfort, but it was at least something. Pain was better than suddenly finding himself jumping on his new friends and trying to eat them.

Rochelle was quiet and her face was scrunched into an unattractive grimace. The guts on her skin had dried for the most part, but her clothing was still damp and sticky. Not to mention she reeked. It wasn't even a smell any of them were familiar with. It was worse than vomit. It was indescribably disgusting. It kept all their stomachs churning whenever the wind shifted towards them.

"You really need to wash that shit off," Nick finally said, looking to her. She gave him a withering stare. "I'm being serious here."

"Yeah?" she said slowly, voice strained.

"Whisperin' Oaks has a motel," Ellis said. "It should be just around the overpass over here. They might jus' have some runnin' water still."

"It's getting dark too," Nick agreed. The sun was barely over the horizon. Most of the sky was cast into darkness. "Maybe we should hold up there. Provided, it's not overrun."

It wasn't overrun, but there were Infected. They agreed to leave them as they were—not wanting to risk making enough noise that they were drawn towards them. They hustled up a flight of stairs and into a room on the corner. It wasn't a pretty room—luggage was strewn everywhere, the bed was unmade, some overturned lamps and the main light didn't work. But it was unoccupied. It was also part of a suite. The other connecting door was opened. They did a careful sweep of both rooms. They were both in the same shitty state, but there was no one in it but them.

Rochelle unloaded her things by the door before she moved into the bathroom. Nick leaned against the the bathroom door to watch apprehensively. She gave him a worried stare before reaching into the shower and turning the handle.

She had never been so grateful to see running water in her life. She dropped her face into one hand and began to cry. Nick half-smiled to her before closing the bathroom door.

* * *

Four showers later, Rochelle had thrown on some clothing from the previous inhabitants. Her clothes were hanging in the shower, scrubbed as clean as they were going to get. Hopefully by morning they would be dry. She couldn't find herself able to fight in these borrowed clothes. They were too big and men's. She was practically drowning in them.

"We should get some sleep," Rochelle said quietly. "Should... we keep watch? In case..." She glanced to Coach. He had been uncharacteristically quiet since his encounter.

"Ellis and I have both been bit," Nick pointed out. "We're fine. Coach was bit a few hours ago. If he's not feeling anything now, he probably isn't going to Turn. You _do_ feel all right, right Coach?"

Coach lifted his blood-soaked bandaged arm. "As good as I can feel."

"You know, you're right," Rochelle said. Maybe she just felt guilty that it was because of her that Coach had been bit...She smiled to Coach and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm just..."

"It's all right, little sister." Coach smiled back good-naturedly.

"We'll stay in here," Rochelle said. "You two can take the other bed."

Nick stared at her. Then he looked to Ellis. Ellis was grinning that stupid grin.

"Like a sleepover!" Ellis said. Nick groaned, smacking one hand to his face before turning into the other room. Ellis said goodnight to the other two before following him. "Man this reminds me of this one time that my buddy Keith and I had a birthday party back in the Ramada Hotel in Savannah. Our birthday's were like, two days apart, and so our mom's were always having our birthday parties together. Anyway, we stayed in this one hotel that had this huge water park inside. Keith thought it'd be a really funny idea to—"

"Ellis." Nick raised both hands up. "Just, shut up. Go to sleep. I'm tired." He sighed quietly and climbed into the bed. Ellis fidgeted for a moment before following suit. "And stay on your side," Nick grumbled. "I'll knock your teeth out if you touch me."

Ellis set his hat carefully next to him on the nightstand. He adjusted it slightly so he could stare at the logo. He smiled at it before scooting down into the bed and pulling the covers up to his chest. Blue eyes lifted to the ceiling and he stared silently at it. He was quiet for, maybe, five more minutes.

"Hey... Nick?" Nick groaned loudly into the pillow in response. "Ever been to Whisperin' Oaks?"

"No, Overalls. Shut up."

"It's a really cool place. Keith and I—"

"—I don't fucking care, Ellis. Shut up."

Ellis did. Again he glanced to his hat. He reached out to touch it gently. He wondered if Keith was somewhere safe.

In his heart though, he knew it wasn't true.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry, I had them originally heading down I-95 since that was the fastest route suggested to me. Apparently, though, Whispering Oaks is just outside Atlanta. I remember seeing the sign... I just don't know why they went north instead of south. Human error, maybe.

Again, not ended at end of "The Highway" but I'll catch up.

I also find it weird Coach never talks about his family. I think he makes a great daddy 3

As always, thank you so much for reading and reviewing. Lots of hearts.


	6. Dark Carnival Fairgrounds

_And__ if you check that story  
You'll find out I'm comatose  
Nobody would have thought it  
But that's how the garden grows_

He really wished Ellis would stop crying. It had started at least fifteen minutes ago. Rather suddenly. Nick had just started drifting off to sleep. He was enjoying every second of letting his aching muscles rest. But then the kid just... started crying. Little hiccuping sobs that shook the mattress and made ignoring him impossible. Ellis was trying to be quiet, at least. Shoved his face into the pillow at one point to muffle the noise. It didn't make it any less annoying.

Finally, Nick sighed. "Ellis?" Ellis made a strangled noise and tried to go still. Nick resisted the urge to just go back to sleep. He rolled onto his side to face Ellis. "Hey, what's wrong?" More silence filled with a few trembling breaths. "I'm not going to ask again," he said flatly.

"Sorry..." Ellis sniffled. He rolled slowly onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Nick could make out that miserable face even in the low light. For the moment, he felt pity. It was enough to keep him listening. "Man... I was just thinkin'... 'bout how my Ma and Pa and my sister are all probably dead."

"You don't know that," Nick replied tiredly. "You never know. Miracles can happen." Nick sincerely hoped that would be the end of that. But, god forbid, no.

"Yeah... ya think so?" Ellis squinted through the darkness at the other. Nick only nodded once. "Man... I suppose you're right... I was just thinkin' 'bout all the shit that was goin' on down at our neighborhood... But, man. If we made it out of Savannah, why couldn't they? Ma and Pa know what they're doin'. And little Cassidy, she wouldn't wander far from 'em. I know she was headin' to school... but Ma was so worried these last few days. I don't know if she was even lettin' Cassidy outta her sights 'cause..." he trailed off, chewing at his lip absently.

After a minute Nick looked to Ellis again. "You all right now?"

Ellis shrugged slightly. "I don't know. It's really scary to think they're out there. I just... I really hope they're okay." He fidgeted with the blanket. "I'm sure they are. What about your Ma and Pa? Got any baby sisters or brothers?"

Nick sighed. What was with these southerners and their need to know everything about you? Ellis took his silence as a bad sign. The young man scooted closer, one hand gripping Nick's shoulder. "They'll be okay, Nick. I'm sure they're fine."

"Yeah..." Nick eyed the other. Ellis opened his mouth to speak again but Nick reached out and ruffled his hair. "It's fine, Overalls. Just get some sleep." His fingers strayed in those unimaginably soft locks for maybe a few seconds too long. Ellis flushed absolutely red.

"Nick...?"

Nick folded his hands neatly over his stomach and adverted his eyes. "What?"

"It's okay to be scared." Ellis stare was intense. Like he was searching for even the slightest hint of emotion of the conman's face. Nick's face stayed the same though. "I mean, I know we don't know each other very well, but... I think we can be good friends. Y'all may be the last friends I ever make."

In that instant, Nick realized how true those words were. He felt his body rush with coldness, his heartbeat suddenly caught in his throat. He felt a little dazed. His gaze shifted back to the other man. Ellis was still staring down at him with those big innocent, concerned blue eyes. That half-smile.

Last people he may ever meet.

Maybe it was the sudden rush of loneliness that caused him to move. The idea he was facing his own mortality every day now. The thought that he may never have the chance to do this again with _anyone._

Whatever it was, Nick reached up with one hand again, took a fistful of Ellis' hair and pressed his lips urgently to Ellis'. Ellis didn't resist or react much more than a startled intake of breath. Their mouths departed and Ellis searched Nick's face, hardly able to breathe. Then he was crushing his mouth back to the conman's.

Maybe he felt that loneliness too. That need to just have someone to touch. Someone else's heartbeat to feel. Someone else's hands on them. Needed someone to make everything feel normal.

And just like that, they were tearing off clothes, breathy gasps between forceful kisses. They were not at all gentle with each other. They would be greeted in the morning with bruised lips, hickey's and sore muscles that only added to the pain of everything.

But, at least they weren't alone.

* * *

When they both finally woke up in the morning they didn't quite make eye-contact. Ellis kept turning a fierce shade of red and Nick pretended to not notice. They dressed on opposite sides of the room and when Rochelle came in to grab new gauze for Coach, Ellis bolted into the bathroom. This left Rochelle staring hard at the conman. Nick ignored her.

"What did you do?" she asked coldly.

"Nothing." Nick shrugged. "Why?"

She eyed him up and down slowly, before nodding to the first aid kit. "I'm going to re-bandage Coach's wound. You should help Ellis redress his too." She unzipped the first aid, pulled out a new bandage and some antiseptics. Then she shoved one finger hard into Nick's chest. She was scowling. "If I find out you said something to him, you're gonna pay."

Nick delicately removed her finger. "That's nice," he said, smiling. She glared and stomped back to Coach's side.

A minute later Ellis slowly emerged from the bathroom. He looked around anxiously and then crept slowly across the room. Nick was standing at the edge of the bed, fixing his cuffs and, for the most part, still ignoring him. Ellis risked a few glances to towards him until slowly reaching to grab his hat from the dresser.

"Ellis," Nick said absently.

Ellis dropped his hat three times before standing upright, hat clenched between both hands. "Yes?"

"Let's change your bandages."

Ellis blinked down at his arms and then he nodded. "Okay..."

Their eyes met briefly and Ellis turned bright red before forcing his eyes to the ground. Nick gestured to the bed and Ellis sat down and offered his arms out for Nick. Nick was surprisingly gentle. Taking care to undo the dressing as tenderly as he could. Dried blood stuck to the cloth and when it was pulled away it stung, but Ellis was too busy trying to calm the rushing of blood through his face to really take too much notice. Nick cleaned the wound and redressed it—expertly. "You really a doctor, Nick?" Ellis asked tentatively.

Nick snorted. "No." He stuffed the unused cloth and antiseptics back into the first aid. "I just know my way around a first aid kit." He moved as though to leave and then he stopped, looking hard at Ellis. Again, Ellis flushed dark red. "Don't tell anyone about last night." He probably didn't need to even say it. Ellis nodded quickly in response, still not looking to him.

The conman snatched Ellis' hat out of his hands and then pulled it onto the kids head roughly. Ellis pushed the rim out of his eyes quick enough to see the conman retreating from the room. They were both grinning.

* * *

They gathered their things and checked their weapons before heading back out. The morning was far gone by now, and the humidity was sticking to their skin the second the door opened. It made for a miserable day—but, as it turns out, the days were already stacked against them.

Ellis led them, as usual. Within ten minutes he was back to blabbering non-stop and the accusing glares Rochelle had been sending to Nick slowly subsided. They went down a steep ravine, through ankle-deep water (that smelled like fucking death) and backup the ravine on the other side. That was when they saw the very first "Whispering Oaks" neon sign. Just past the fences, the sleepy carnival lay in silence.

But, of course, that silence wouldn't ever last for very long. "Hey," Coach rumbled, pointing at a poster. There were four meaty men standing together. They looked like something between trailer trash and biker dudes. "It's the Midnight Riders!"

"Aw, man!" Ellis grinned hard, elbowing Coach and the big man grinned back. "I wonder if they're still here."

"Never heard of them," Nick said, shrugging. "Are they any good?"

Coach laughed as though the answer was obvious. "Man, I got all their albums. Best light-show in the business!"

"Yeah," Ellis agreed. "I saw them back in '07. Front row! Lost both my eyebrows." He ran a finger over one of the said eyebrows. "Took three months to grow back."

"You gatta be shittin' me?" Coach laughed. "I was there too!"

The next few minutes were filled with some excitable swapping of stories of the experience at the concert that both Rochelle and Nick tuned out immediately. Their stories were cut short as the first Infected came into view just outside a cluster of food vendors. Maybe the Infected still had some subconscious desire for real food. Probably not, because the second the four rounded the corner, they turned their sights on them. A dozen or so sloppy Infected rushed towards them, screaming their ungodly screams. They died before getting a taste of human flesh.

Then Nick rounded the corner and found himself caught in a tango. The Infected was a small thing with an unbelievable vertical jump. It jumped directly onto Nick's chest, little arms and legs kicking and clawing as it worked its way to his head. Nasty hands shoved into Nick's face and tore into his hair. The conman dropped his gun in the scuffle and took a few teetering steps back as he tried to dislodge it from his face. Then he toppled over with a strangled cry.

Ellis and Rochelle threw down their guns and grabbed the arms of the Infected and pried its hands free from Nick. Together threw it away from its victim and it bounced off the cement before popping back to its feet, seemingly unfazed. Coach unloaded into the Infected and it died with a sickening giggle.

"Shit, man, you hurt?" Ellis breathed, moving to help Nick.

Nick shuddered where he sat, wiping at his face, eye twitching, seething. "What the fuck, are all the freaks here at the circus?" He grudgingly got to his feet and snatched his gun back to Rochelle when he offered it. Then he proceeded to kick the dead Infected several times in the gut before punting it another five feet. "Fuck you!" he snarled. "Piece of shit."

A few more cuss words and the conman was satisfied enough to continue. A little more cautious, they moved in a tight circle onward. As they went, it became more and more apparent that they weren't the only ones to survive the initial Infection. Sleeping bags littered the hallways and they came across a few empty bullet shells and dead Infected here and there that gave them some small hope. At least others were surviving.

They also came across an abandoned backpack that Rochelle was quick to investigate. It had a handful of handgun ammo that she distributed between them as well as a make-shift pipebomb. Nick was quick to pocket that. She gave him a long look, but the man simply held up his lighter and smiled. Without a word she tossed the scavenged bag back to the ground, checked her pistol and then followed Ellis back outside.

And then...

"Holy shit guys! Kiddie land!" Ellis skipped a few steps before pointing. "I use to come here as a little kid with my Pa! And I would ride this one, and this one... Oh, and this one right here was my favorite!" Nick reached out to grab the back of Ellis' collar and keep him from dancing away to investigate his "childhood memories". Ellis choked a little as he was jerked back, but he was still grinning.

"How old are you, really?" Nick asked, rolling his eyes. He then had a sudden sinking feeling in his gut.

"Twenty-three! I ain't that old yet."

The sinking feeling was gone, but Nick's annoyance was still evident. "Can't you settle your shit down for more than five minutes?"

Ellis shrugged good-naturedly and they continued onward. More clusters of Infected seemed to be standing around—but a majority of them seemed to have been killed. More than once they came across a mound of Infected corpses. At least the other group going through here was well-armed.

Nick wasn't a fan of amusement parks. Whispering Oak's proved to only intensify his hatred. Sure, it may be home to a shit-load of drooling zombies, but the place was an absolute mess. Whoever had designed the park hadn't gone for sensibility. It was built like a god damn fun-house. And yet, Ellis was leading them without even once false turn. Probably had to do with "all those trips" he had taken here as a kid. Nick had to admit, it was at the very least, impressive. Good memory.

Until they came to the dead end. "Think we can climb that fence?" Ellis muttered. He stood with one hand on his hip, the other lifting his hat up as he scratched thoughtfully at his head. "I ain't seein' no other way around."

Coach shifted uncomfortably. "Between my arm and my bad knees... I don't think so." He peered through the chain-link fence. "How about that electrical box over there? Open the gates, you think?"

"Aw, well, sorry, Ellis." Nick gestured just below his chin. "Gatta be this tall to ride." He nodded to the sign just outside the merry-go-round. "You'll be missed."

"Ha ha ha." Ellis threw a playful punch to the others shoulder. "Ya'll would miss me too much." He risked a glance to Nick. The conman was rubbing his shoulder, eyes narrowed, tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth in thought. Nick didn't say anything and instead investigated the electrical box along with Coach. "Power on?" he asked. Nick and Coach shrugged together and the big man clicked "on".

The colorful merry-go-round suddenly came to life. Lights flashed, music blared and the entire thing began spinning its slow and sickening turn. The sound reverberated all around them. They could feel it in their chests. That awful booming of the loudspeaker. The gate, at least, opened. The four exchanged shocked stares.

"Just. Run." Nick grabbed Coach's arm and pulled him. The big man looked as though he wanted to turn it off. But the damage was already done. As they ran around the singing carousel, Infected met them in a wave of sheer force. Their bullets tore a path in them, but none of them got through without a few bumps and bruises from clawing Infected. They knocked the Infected back with fists and elbows, firing only when they could manage to get the gun up high enough to take off a shot. Which wasn't often.

"Guys, to the Tunnel of Love!" Ellis said, pointing. He pistol whipped an Infected reaching for Coach. Teeth exploded and it fell back grasping at its bleeding gums.

"Tunnel of Love?" Nick spat. "Jesus Christ."

Ellis paved the way for them, his expert shot finding most Infected between the eyes. He jumped clean over the wooden divider outside the ride and threw open the door. He took a quick sweep in the room before turning back and gesturing for them. "It's clear!" he yelled. Nick, Rochelle then Coach followed clumsily over the railings and inside. Ellis pulled the door closed.

On the other side, the Infected threw themselves against it, screaming.

* * *

**A/N: **So... I really fought with myself whether I should have the "bedroom" part or not. Ultimately, it fit. I'm not usually one to throw around random meaningless sex... But, honestly, who wouldn't want someone to feel good with in a time like this? Human nature. I also kept it short because... well, because I wanted to leave a more ominous feeling. I promise it won't be so brief in the future.

This chapter was painful to write. The second they left the hotel room, my brain just died... I spent most of my "thinking" time playing Mass Effect multiplayer and cussing out crappy teammates. Boo.

As always, thank you for reading and reviewing. I love y'all.


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